She pushed her walker ahead of her, leading the way to the tiny office at the back of her house. It was crammed with books and file cabinets, with a small roll top desk wedged in one corner. Amanda watched from the doorway while Mrs. Granger methodically started going through the drawers, rooting around and muttering to herself as she searched for Hubert’s hoarded keys. Occasionally, she’d find a piece of paper that she’d examine and stuff in her pocket, apparently to be perused later. After several long minutes, she finally extracted a huge wad of keys on an oversized, homemade ring. She flipped through a few of them, then gave a sigh of exasperation and used both hands to give the heavy bundle to Amanda.
“See what I mean about him being a packrat? I think there are still keys on there from our first Chevy.”
Amanda turned on a desk lamp and started examining the keyring. It didn’t take long for her to find the sole Lucky Rail key that Hubert had saved. The four-leaf clover shape definitely stood out. It took a bit of wrangling, but after a few minutes she was able to extract the key off the wire ring.
“That’s it.” There was a sound of satisfaction in Mrs. Granger’s voice, and she was pleasantly surprised when Amanda leaned over and gave her resounding peck on the cheek.
“Mrs. Granger, you are a wonder. May I borrow this key? I’d like to go check out the depot.”
The old lady’s eyebrows went up. “Check this out without me? Are you crazy? I was the one who gave you that clue. Besides,” she said, rubbing her hands together in anticipation, “I’d love to see the depot again. It’s been locked up tight and I haven’t been there in years. I used to drive down and take Hubert a hot lunch pail every day.”
The thought of Mrs. Granger being her sleuth sidekick was ludicrous. The old lady relied completely on her walker to get around, and even though she was incredibly sharp of mind, Amanda couldn’t stomach the thought of her being involved in a murder investigation. Sometimes, things didn’t go well and it could be dangerous for the old lady. Amanda had grown to love her, almost as if she were her own grandmother.
Besides, she knew Meg would kill her if she took Mrs. Granger with her. Beneath Meg’s sweet blonde exterior was someone who would do anything to protect the people she loved. The idea of having her mad at Amanda wasn’t a pleasant prospect.
Amanda made up her mind. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. You never know what can happen when you’re investigating something like this.”
Mrs. Granger crossed her arms, her lips a thin line of defiance. “Well, if you really thought this was so dangerous you’d be calling James to go with you, and I haven’t heard you say a word about that.” She smiled smugly. “I promise I’ll watch your back.”
“I think it’s a bad idea.”
Mrs. Granger’s tone became wheedling. “Amanda, I’m overdue for some adventure and at my age, what do I have to lose?”
Amanda patiently explained her reasoning. “I don’t need James to go with me because all I’m doing is checking if this key works on any of the doors at the depot. That’s it. I’m not risking my safety, and I’m certainly not going to risk yours.”
“Then give me back my key.”
“Are you kidding?’”
The stony face of her stubborn companion plainly showed she wasn’t kidding at all. “I’m a full-grown adult with all my faculties and I want to go with you to the depot.”
By the steely glint in Mrs. Granger’s eyes, Amanda knew she just lost the argument. If she wanted to use the key, she’d have to take the old lady with her. Resigned, she picked up her coat and stuffed her arms into the sleeves. “Fine, but if Meg’s mad about this, I’m blaming you.”
“Deal!” Mrs. Granger clapped her hands together in glee. “I call shotgun.”
Chapter 9
All the way to the depot, Amanda gripped the steering wheel tightly and tried to keep from muttering swear words under her breath. This was a bad idea. A terribly bad idea. An idea that should be spanked and sent to bed early sort of an idea.
She should never have told Mrs. Granger she could come with her. The old lady was nearly bouncing in her seat, humming happily and pointing out areas of interest to Amanda as they drove past. Most of her stories seemed to revolve around other people and their love lives, and after Amanda had heard the second tale about which couple had been discovered naked under which big tree while they were courting, her patience had almost snapped.
By the time Mrs. Granger had pointed out the nearly-overgrown entry to the depot’s parking lot, Amanda was looking forward to leaving the older lady in the car. With an assurance to Mrs. Granger that she’d be right back, Amanda got out and pulled up the hood on her coat. Even though the sun wasn’t completely set yet, the darkness under the high canopy of the fir tree forest seemed to block out much of the light. Hanging moss and lichens on the black-trunked trees lent an air of foreboding to the whole area.
Not exactly Disneyland, she thought, as she gave a short wave of goodbye to Mrs. Granger. The old lady seemed pretty ticked off. She had her arms crossed, and was having an angry, muttered conversation with herself as she was sitting alone in the car.
Amanda turned toward the depot, pulling out her flashlight. Can’t be helped that she’s mad at me, she thought resignedly. I’ll just have to apologize later. Might need a couple of boxes of doughnuts to smooth over her feathers a bit.
The depot was just a short walk from the car but Amanda had to pick her way through the fallen branches and pieces of forest debris that were scattered all over the parking lot. A quick scan of the area and she instantly realized that she’d parked in the one spot that was clear. A spot that was exactly the size of a parked car.
Someone had been here before, and someone had made sure they had a place to park.
She gripped the flashlight more tightly. A little voice in the back of her brain was telling her that she should wait, and that she should call the police. She’d heard that voice in the past and she knew it meant she needed to be extra cautious. Looking around, the place seemed completely abandoned. There was no place to hide another vehicle. She stood still for a few moments, straining her ears, but only heard the dripping of the wet trees and the rustle of birds moving.
The small depot building stretched parallel to the abandoned railroad tracks. Large sheets of weathered plywood were nailed over the windows, and a bright orange NO TRESPASSING sign had been attached to the siding. It looked like there was an office on one end and a cargo area with a raised platform and barn door on the other. The center section had a sign over the single door that said PASSENGERS, apparently leading to the waiting room where tickets would have been purchased.
Amanda tried turning the slick doorknob for the passenger section but it didn’t budge. She pulled out the Lucky Rail key and it was cold in her hand as she inserted it and carefully tried to turn the bolt. Nothing. The key didn’t work in the lock at all. Amanda felt a stab of disappointment that she couldn’t get it to move. The entrance was locked up tight.
Even though she knew she was alone, Amanda kept glancing around her as if she was going to be grabbed by someone demanding to know why she was trying to get into the depot. Walking around the side of the building, she walked up the ramp to the cargo area. There was a raised platform for loading items onto the train, and a huge barn door for moving boxes and goods in and out of the storage area. She leaned timidly around the next corner, peering down the side of the building by the tracks, but there wasn’t a soul in sight.
Time to try to get into the cargo area.
She pulled on the sliding barn door but it wouldn’t budge, no matter how hard she tried. There was a normal-sized door at the side, and Amanda’s hands were trembling a bit when she pulled out the Lucky Rail key again. Glancing around again, she took a deep breath and slid it into the door lock. It took a bit of maneuvering to get it all the way in, but when she tried to turn it the old lock it wouldn’t budge. She set her shoulder against the door and tried her best to rot
ate the key but after several minutes of shoving and twisting as hard as she could, she finally gave up. The key she had didn’t belong to the lock for the cargo room.
Amanda fumbled with her flashlight and shined it on the lock, instantly realizing that it wasn’t nearly as old as the key in her hand. The shiny lock looked brand new, nothing like the tarnished lock on the front passenger area door.
She really didn’t want to break anything to get in, and after trying that door she wasn’t certain she could. A bit more snooping and when she walked back toward the parking lot she saw another door on the far end of the small building. There was a faded sign painted on the door, reading STATIONMASTER’S OFFICE. She was certain that Mrs. Granger was watching her, unless she’d dozed off, as she tried the key in the deadbolt lock. After a bit of wrangling with the stiff mechanism, she was nearly ready to give up entirely when suddenly the bolt slammed back, making her jump at the sudden sound.
Amanda checked her flashlight again, and holding it in front of her like a weapon, she put her hand on the knob and slowly pushed open the creaky wooden door.
It was dark as a cave inside until Amanda’s light spilled into the room. Dust motes hung suspended in the cold air, as if frozen in time. For a split second, she hesitated at the doorframe. She’d never liked darkness, always being one of those kids who was scared to look in her nighttime closet in case something was looking back at her. Stepping inside, she scanned the room quickly. No monsters here. At least none she could see.
There was a broad, wooden desk and an old-fashioned rolling office chair in the corner of the room. A glass light fixture hung from the center of the ceiling, and a roll-up ticket window, probably leading to the small waiting room, was shut tight. A rusty four-drawer file cabinet sat next to the desk, the bottom drawer hanging open by a couple of inches. An old calendar was thumbtacked on the wall, next to a curled copy of a long-defunct train schedule.
The wooden floorboards squeaked a bit when she walked in, and the harsh sound was jarring, as if it announced her presence. It seemed wrong to be making noise in this abandoned place, as if someone would hear that she’d broken the seal on the outer door of a tomb. She flipped the light switch. Nothing. She’d known there was no electricity to the small building, but she’d had to try anyway.
But she hadn’t broken the seal. Someone else had.
Shining her light on the desk, Amanda could see that the dust on the top had been scuffed and disturbed in several places. She pulled on the bottom of the desk drawer, feeling the resistance of the small lock. Focusing her flashlight on the keyhole, she could see that it appeared to be identical to the type of deadbolt that had been on the office door.
If the lock belonged to Lucky Rail, then there’s a chance the key Desmond Martin had in his shoe might fit it, she thought.
After a few minutes of twisting her key in as hard as she could, she was puffing with exertion and nowhere nearer to opening the stubborn drawer.
Built to last, she thought in frustration. Unfortunately.
She shone her flashlight around the small room, searching for some sort of tool that would help her. Amanda brushed the hair out of her face as she opened the squeaky drawers of the lone file cabinet, finally striking pay dirt in the bottom drawer. There were several old tools in there, including a heavy screwdriver with a wooden handle.
Wedging the flat head of the screwdriver into the space between the top of the drawer and the desk, she wiggled it forward a bit and finally pushed upward as hard as she could. At first there was no progress at all, but as she gave a last-ditch effort and leaned all her weight forward on the handle, there was a loud crack of splitting wood. The stubborn drawer finally popped open, the broken wood splintering around the still-intact lock, and papers inside sliding a bit from the sudden movement.
Amanda grabbed her flashlight and shined it inside the drawer, pulling out pieces of paper and scanning them. They didn’t appear to be anything but printed memos and old timetables; certainly nothing worth hiding a key in someone’s shoe. Disappointed, she pulled the drawer out as far as it could go, probing toward the back and hoping desperately that no spiders had taken up residence inside.
Nothing but papers and long-abandoned pencils. Even with her heart pounding from excitement, Amanda could feel a wave of disappointment wash over her. This wasn’t what Desmond Martin had been hiding.
Amanda gave a deep sigh and tried to push the wooden drawer back inside the old desk, but she’d pulled it out so far that it wasn’t straight and it didn’t slide back easily. Maneuvering it from side to side didn’t seem to help much, so she finally pulled the entire thing out so she could line it up properly. She had it in place and was ready to shove it back into the desk when her fingers brushed against something under the drawer.
Something taped under the drawer.
Something that would be hidden by the wooden case around it when the drawer slid in, and that wouldn’t be seen if the drawer was pulled out.
She yanked again, not realizing that she was barely breathing as she turned the drawer over.
There was a small, dark velvet bag duct taped to the bottom. It was no bigger than her palm, but whatever was in it was something that someone was trying to keep hidden.
Amanda laid the drawer upside down on the desk and carefully pulled the wide gray tape off the wood. She was barely breathing. Something shifted inside the bag with a delicate click. Loosening the drawstring, she upended the small bit of velvet over her open palm, and something beautiful spilled into her hand.
A necklace, but not a normal necklace. This piece of exquisite artwork was crafted from swirled bits of silver metal, probably platinum, wrapped around brilliant cut stones. Amanda’s hand was shaking as she pulled on the chain, lifting the necklace so she could see what it truly looked like. Putting down the fabric bag, she grabbed the flashlight and shone it directly on the amazing piece of jewelry.
It was heavy with filigreed metal and the three perfect stones that dangled from the center, each as large as her fingernail. They reflected the light from her trembling flashlight beam with a brilliant blue-white sparkle, filling the room with dappled spots of color and leaping light. Instantly, Amanda knew that they were high-quality diamonds. Nothing else would shine like that, and their cut and color added to their beauty. She’d never seen anything so beautiful in her life, and suddenly realized that there must’ve been a very good reason that Desmond Martin didn’t want anyone else to find his treasure. This was the sort of necklace that people fought over, bartered fortunes over, and apparently died over.
With that realization, Amanda was able to look at the diamonds in a less romantic light. This stunning necklace, so dazzling in her hand, had gotten someone killed.
Somehow the fabulous stones didn’t seem to sparkle quite as brightly as they had just a second before. She carefully folded the necklace and slid it back into the velvet bag, then dropped it into her coat pocket. With no cell coverage in this area, she’d have to call James as soon as she got to a spot her phone would work. Amanda would make sure to tell him all about how she’d gotten it, and what she’d touched and what she’d moved. She knew his team would go through the stationmaster’s office with a fine-toothed comb, but she wasn’t going to risk anyone else taking the necklace, even if it was only left in the depot until James could drive over to retrieve it. Definitely would be much safer with her.
She shone her flashlight around the office once more, checking if there was anything else she needed to report. When the beam of light landed on an interior door, also with a lock in it, she paused. The passenger lounge was probably on the other side of the wall, since that was where the shuttered ticket window was.
Amanda pulled out the Lucky Rail key Mrs. Granger had given her and slid it gingerly into the lock, hoping it wouldn’t get stuck. It went in perfectly and when she turned it, she could feel a deadbolt giving way. Grabbing her flashlight, she turned the doorknob and slowly pushed the squeaking wooden door open
.
The quiet room was full of long wooden benches, as if it still waited for passengers to come sit and wait, clutching their handbags and eager to board the passenger coaches that would be coming any minute. There was another door on the far wall, with a small sign that read CARGO. Another lock, another attempt at moving the bolt, and to her surprise it turned. Apparently, the stationmaster key opened all interior door locks, but what Amanda saw when she pushed open the cargo door made her catch her breath in shock.
Someone had been in this room, and very recently, it appeared. There was a full-sized mattress set directly on the floor, with a camping lantern standing on a wooden box next to it, along with several half-burned candles and a couple of scattered candy bar wrappers. The makeshift bed was covered with thick comforters and a pair of pillows. A nearby chair had a pair of gloves on it and a red and green hand-knit scarf was laid across the top. A wooden broom was standing in the corner by a pile of dust and leaves that someone had swept up, and an empty wine bottle lay on its side on the bare plank floor.
Amanda shivered. Someone had been here, and it looked like someone definitely planned to come back. The room seemed suddenly too cold and too dark. Just as she took one more step into the space, there was a scuffling sound in the corner and a loud thump as something fell over and hit the wooden floor. Someone or something was in the room with her! She spun around and pulled the creaking door shut behind her, running across the waiting room and through the little office. Back outside, she didn’t stop. The light was nearly completely gone now, the towering trees just looming pieces of darkness penning her in, and she clutched the little velvet bag with both hands as she ran back to the car. Sidestepping the fallen branches littering the parking lot, she took a big gulp of air as she finally grabbed the car’s door handle, her heart still hammering in fear, her mouth dry.
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